Phantom of My Mind
by ooBatz16
Summary: Based of the 2004 movie, with the same characters, just a different spin on the tale.. Raoul is the manager, and The Phantom his trusty composer. What happens when they both fall for Christine? We'll see who wins this battle for Christine's heart, and who in turn, becomes the Opera House phantom. :  Rated M for future things of dark or graphic nature!
1. Chapter 1

"Wandering child..So lost, so helpless..Yearning for my guidance.."

Christine rolled over in her bed, her slim body twitching anxiously as she murmered "Angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it there, staring?"

Beautiful eyes glowed at her as his perfect lips sang soulfully "Have you forgotten your Angel?"

No! She wanted to scream. Christine's head thrashed wildly into her pillow. No! No! No! In her sleep she whispered "Angel, oh, speak,What endless longings,Echo in this whisper.."

"Too long you've wandered in winter..Far from my fathering gaze.."

"Wildly my mind beats against you.."

"Yet your.."

"Yet the.."

"...soul obeys!"

"CHRISTINE!"

Christine jerked awake. Her chocolate brown eyes widdened with shock, then disappointment.

"You were dreaming again, I assume." Christine's stepmother stared at her with a deep scowl from the doorway.

"Apprently so..." Christine sighed in exasperation then ran her hand though her curly hair as she gazed dejectedly at the women she loathed.

Her stepmother's lips curled into a snicker. "Well keep it down, Angel of Music!" She spat as she turned and strutted down the hallway.

Christine turned her chin to gaze out the window. Although she was burning up because of the fireplace in her room, she pulled her covers to her chest. Lately, she had been getting very little sleep. Part of it was due to these tormenting dreams. The other part would be that her father had been gone for the past two weeks.

Since she was little, her parents used to sing her to sleep. Her father would play his violin, and her mother would sing. Her mother would also tell her stories of Little Lotte, the child who possessed unearthly singing skills from a mysterious man. This comforting routine continued for several years, however, fate can't be to kind. Christine's mother had been trying in vain to have children for years, with no success. If she did get pregnant, the child miscarried. When Christine was nine, her mother passed from giving childbirth to her second child, and the child didn't make it through the night. Fate left Christine and her father alone, and that day, something changed permentatly. was a famous wedding violinist, but after her death, he never played the same. Christine's grandmother had died, she had told her that the music in his heart was gone, and even Christine could not fill it again. When Christine turned thirteen, remarried Carlotta Giudicelli, an Italian opera singer. However, even the busty opera singer could not make play the same. Nobody, except Christine, really noticed that anyways, though.

Christine slowly laid her head back to the cool pillow. It was a crisp fall night, going on winter. They had moved to Paris when Christine was sixteen, because Carlotta wanted to spread her fame to the famous Paris Opera House. It took Carlotta several months to get in with the opera business in Paris, but she had succeeded, and the family had just recently moved into the opera house itself.

You'd think, since Christine came from a wealthy family with big names, she'd be happy. Instead, she was restless and often depressed. Her father rarely noticed her and her stepmother was a witch beyond Hell imagined. Carlotta's voice, contrasting to popular opinion, was god-awful. Christine smiled weakly at this. People had told Christine that she had a voice like a beautiful mockingbird. It was pure, strong, and rang like melodious bells in a church. And her stepmom hated her for it. However, because of her Stepmother's fame, Christine was overlooked as diva. Instead, Christine danced. She wasn't the best ballerina, but she was graceful and coordinated. And this was mainly due to the fact that music soared in her blood.

Often after rehearsals, Christine would excuse herself into a world where nobody but stone knew her. It was in an old watch tower, about 3 miles from the Opera House, but far enough away that people couldn't hear her. It's not that she didn't want them to hear her...it's just that she wanted to be alone. She wanted to pour her soul out to her descesed mother in the silence of music.

And that's when she'd heard him. The voice of her dreams. He sang to her in a deep, masculine tone. His voice was intoxication from the first note. Everytime since she'd gone back, she heard him, and they'd sing their duet. And ever since that night, she'd dreamed of him. Although she'd never seen him, she imagined what he looked like. Intense blue eyes often glowed out at her with perfect lips and gorgeous blonde hair. He was an angel, her angel of music, just like Little Lotte.

But the tower had been destroyed three months ago. The town had decided to knock it down, since it really wasn't of any paticular use anymore except for storage. Plus, rumors had started that a ghost resided there, and the people of Paris were extrememly supersitious. Anyways, the place shattered. And along with the broken tower, Christine's dreams shattered. Her angel gave her hope that someday, she could be a world famous diva. But she hadn't heard from her angel since-except in her dreams.

A silver tear slid down Christine's porcelian cheek. Her hands cradled her face. Oh, how she wished her mother was here. She'd sing to her, and help her find her angel of music. Christine wiped her tears and crawled out of bed. It was almost dawn anyways. She sat down in front of her mirror and perused her face. It was a bit splotchty from crying, but nothing that required make-up. Christine hated make-up, for she really had no need for it. The natural beauty had her mother's slim build, her mother's dark curls, and her mother's porcelen complexion. However, her dark eyes and long lashes came from her father. It was a blessing; she never fretted with mascara. Often Carlotta glared at her, green with jealousy. Carlotta was a beauty, done in make-up and fake hair. Christine was a goddess, dressed in a doll's complexion and long eyeslashes.

"Christine, hurry your lazy ass up! We have to leave in fifteen minutes!"

Christine rolled her eyes, but raked her room for a dress to wear. Today was a big day at the Opera House. They were receiving a new Vicomete and a Composer. _All vicomonte's are rats ass', and composers are disgusting old men. _Even though rumor said The vicomte Raoul de Changy was gorgeous, Christine would turn her cheek. No man could interest her, unless he could sing like a god, had blue eyes, had blond hair, and used to live in a tower...


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours later, Christine sat fidgeting with her ballet costume. It was a light green with gold trim around the hems. They were rehearsing for the play,_Hannibal. _The Vicomete de Chagny and his composer sat just outside the curtains, as they were going to watch this dress rehearsal. All of the other dancers had rushed to see them, but Christine could care less. She hadn't heard or seen hide or hair of them. And it didn't worry her one bit. It became a game, almost, to see how long she could avoid them.

"1 minute ladies!" Madame Giry barked from the left side of the stage. Meg Giry, her bouncy daughter, burst into the room. Her blue eyes matched her vivacious spririt and her golden hair shone radiantly.

"Oh Christine, you look beautiful! And the Vicomete..oh he's so handsome...and the composer..Oh Christine..!" Meg bubbled enthusiastically. 

"Hush Meg, it's time to perform!" Christine hissed through clenched teeth.

Just then the curtains rose, and Carlotta's song "Think of Me" began to play.

Christine twirled three times then gracefully spun to the ground with the other girls. Oh, how she loved this song. And how it irked her to have Carlotta sing it. Howling dogs probably could have preformed it better.

"Think of me..Think of me fondly..when we've said goodbye.."

Christine cringed.

"..Remember me, once in awhile, please promise me you'll try!" The Itailian soprano sceeched.

Christine mouthed the words longingly.

POV: Raoul de Chagny

Raoul de Chagy gazed up at the majestic stage, his baby blue eyes admiring it's beauty. His eyes quickly roamed Carlotta as she sang "Think of Me." _I should have brought ear plugs, _he thought bitterly. Although the women was sexy, he voice sounded like a strangled chicken. Raul then surveyed the dancers. There was a pretty blonde with perky boobs and golden blonde hair. There was also a few brunettes, a redhead, two black haired girls.. then he saw her.

She twirled onto the stage with the grace of a trained professional. Her slim figure stayed in strict tune with the melody, and her curves spun her delciously around. _Oh, my._ The goddess slowly sank to the ground as Carlotta began singing. He watched the goddess dancer cringe as Carlotta began, then watched as her pink lips began to softly mouth the words. Raul smiled as the dancer rose sensually to her feet and began to glide across the stage. _I must know who that girl is.._

POV: The Composer

The composer stared keenly at the stage._ Whoever hired Carlotta must have been deaf_, he thought in disgust. She was attractive, no doubt, but her voice made him wish he could strangle himself. However, he was here for a purpose. A composer he was, and he had an opera he wanted performed. He didn't really like the managers here, or even Raoul really, but he used Raoul to get fame. Now, he no longer needed him, but it was good socially to be recognized with him. It protected his face-literally. And now, he would use the managers of this Opera House to achieve the glory and praise he sought for his masterpieces. However much he disliked Raoul or it's managers, he appreciated this Opera House greatly. It was glorious, and he believed that his musical genious could blossom here. _If only she was here.. _ He missed her. Oh, how he missed her. He hadn't seen her in months. If my angel were here, she could dominate the stage, and overthrow La Carlotta's musical reign. Suddenly, his body went rigid. There she was. Right in front of him. She had just twirled onto the stage, flaunting her perfect body.

Carlotta sang; she cringed.

Carlotta continued; she mouthed the words.

How he wished he could remove Carlotta and let her voice fill the opera house. His angel was here, and he would never let her wander from him again! 


	3. Chapter 3

"It is a pleasure to meet you monsieurs!" Carlotta blinked heavily through fake lashes. She curtseyed for the men, aiming her clevage at them only as subtly as she could pull off.

Raoul's eyes quickly perused the show, but Erik jerked his head in the opposite direction. He had been searching for the girl, but she had not appeared since her last dance.

_Oh, where are you angel? I need to hear your voice.._

"Ah! Christine! Christine! Christine come here. Quickly darling!" Carlotta called. Erik turned his head back toward's the diva and about dropped his jaw.

His angel was practically floating towards him. Her dark eyes flashed as she deftly observed the men, but she didn't study for long.

_She dosen't know who you are Erik, you couldn't expect her too._ _You were just a voice in an old tower. She never knew you.._

"Greetings, monsieurs." Christine accosted politely, although her tone was gaurded.

"Monsieur Raoul de Chagny, Monsieur Erik, this is my daughter, Christine." Carlotta forced a big smile and akwardly patted Christine's shoulder.

Christine did a half smile, then set her strawberry pink lips into line. She could feel the men watching her, and it was making her slightly uneasy. Raoul was quite handsome. He had golden hair that was well cut and styled neatly. His intense blue eyes were almost intoxicating; Christine had already had locked with his gaze one to many times. _He almost looks like my angel.._ Christine entertained herself with the thought. Alas, he couldn't be the one. Her angel wouldn't be a horndog. She had seen him flirting with the other ballerinas; her angel had eyes for no one but her. Plus, this guy looked like her couldn't even carry a tune. _And I don't like bloody rich vicometes. They're all snots! _She could tell little about the composer. He was tall, well built, and wore an emotionless expression, almost like a mask. Which was slightly ironic because he indeed, wore a mask. The white mask covered one side of his face, adding to his allure. Forest green eyes challenged her with supremacy and confidence, and they almost dared her to judge him. _So, the great composer is stuck up as well. No suprises there._

Erik felt her eyes deducing him. Her gaze traveled his body, but lingered on his face. His mask. Oh God, how he wished that side of his face was as perfect as the other. Then she'd be able to look at him like she did Raoul. He knew she found him handsome; Christine's eyes had studied him wonderingly. Erik felt himself tighten with sudden, white-hot anger, but his body portrayed nothing. He was a master actor.

"You are an excellent dancer, Christine." Raoul flashed a brilliant smile towards her.

"Thank you, monsieur. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to.. find Meg. Pleasure meeting you both." She dipped her graceful body in a slight curtsy then disapperared behind the blood-red curtains.


End file.
